


Hollow.

by bloodyhorrors



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 19:27:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15955949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodyhorrors/pseuds/bloodyhorrors
Summary: Beacon Hills acknowledges the chaos something truly good can cause, once it's been corrupted.





	Hollow.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this, and excuse my shitty writing.

A veil of tenebrosity that could be compared to a canvas of charcoal was spreading upon the town known as a paranormal beacon, luring in the most twisted minds along with the most distorted of souls. Sometimes, the atmosphere surrounding the town was violent, capable of suffocating each individual inhabiting it— supernatural or assembled by humanity. The luminescence of the stars hanging from the dark canvas could still be projected through menacing cloudy figures; something that to a True Alpha and his pack meant nothing but hope at the darkest of times. To other supernatural creatures like a certain cold-blooded and isolated chimera observing the radiance behind a dusty truck windscreen; didn't erase the fact that another threat could be on the way, the chances of survival minimum each and every time. After all, the night sky was nothing but a graveyard of deceased stars, he could be nothing but grateful that amber mixed with emerald stained spheres could still witness it and not the surroundings of a horrific morgue space.

For a certain Beta, although; none of the above situations could be logically relatable since even the thought of a new threat caused a heavy feeling blossom and spread beneath heaving thorax assembled by adolescent masculinity. He blamed the certain shift in behavior to the fact that the one and only individual who taught him what it meant to protect someone, what it meant to extend someone's fractured life, what it meant that even being a creature considered a monster by society there was beauty and achievements of heroism with each drop of crimson staining sharpened claws, was out of his reach. The only thing he successfully abandoned behind was a building inhabited by responsibilities, responsibilities that seemed to be like a dead weight forming a rope that was wrapped delicately around his throat and every time, the pressure increased as it tightened every second passing by. He had been completely banished out of his path lately, due to the absence of what was left of his hope. Surely, he was surrounded by loved ones— yet nothing could possibly fill up the space of the leader. His leader. How could he possibly truly replace him? He was just a mindless kid; causing wreckage and destruction. He could never be Scott. He could never save lives with such reassurance. Most likely, he would be the reason behind their soul descending. 

It's been a while, ever since he achieved to live through a good night's sleep; in the Dunbar household. But, he could have never mentioned it to anyone, how could he? He was supposed to be the brave one, the strong one. His soul shall not be corrupted; his body shall not be broken. He shall be the lead. The lead to the end of impurity; the wake-up call that would mend the broken; that would save those in need.  
But, there he was standing.

Lissom phalanges achieving a circular position, curling inwards to form tight fists. Sucking in a shaky breath, he watched the lifeless corpses of anyone he had ever developed any kind of attachment to, formed any kind of strong emotional bond surrounding the forsaken oil covered ground beneath destroyed soles. 

“No, no, no—“ 

He let out a quiet whimper, taking a glimpse of his bloodstained clothes; noticing the vermillion covering his phalanges upon extending his upper extremities forward to catch a better sight of his shaky hands. 

“This is not happening, this is not happen—ing.” 

Unable to understand the situation, his mind went through an overdrive of pure panic; was this his blood? Was this their blood? Did he kill them? Did he try to protect them? 

Frightened; gasping for air he took a few steps backward, desperate to detach himself from any proximity to the land of the fallen. .   
Until he felt digits applying a firm grip upon his ankle; claws viciously tearing through his coated with a layer of flesh. He allowed to an agitated scream to surpass his brims; a sign of heavy pain blossoming at the spot. Turning around, azure stained hues spotted a sight that would possibly haunt every inch of his brain. 

Scott McCall, his rightful alpha was the source of the severe discomfort, each second passing by, he felt the claws piercing deeper into an abyss of crimson. 

But; that was not the most horrid part. The Alpha’s guts had been spilled upon the dirt; his lowest limbs detached from the rest of his physique, the alabaster of corrupted bones was quite visible. 

Liam felt like he would throw up his own insides any second now, the details haunting his vision that had now been acquired with a tint of a blur. 

“S-Scott?” 

The beta let out a terror-stricken whisper from the back of his throat. 

“It’s all your fault. You killed us. you killed all of us. The blood on your hands will haunt you forever.” 

The Alpha’s facial expression was devoid of any sign of emotion, or pity. The vermillion tinted eyes he so sought recognition in everytime he’d achieve something have now transformed intostone cold; stone cold alabaster hues projecting nothing but ultimate hatred towards the youthful beta. The Beta he created. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to—“ 

His shaky words are cut off by several fingers applying a firm touch on each extremity of his, as if he had been captured the way a wild animal could’ve been. 

He could hear cracks from each section of his body, hollow cracks that followed by pain blossoming in the base that every limb was attached from. He was being torn apart; ripped in different pieces. 

Everywhere looked, he could recognize a familiar face; a face built upon a bond that was more than just family. But, he didn’t feel loved by them anymore. Any of them. 

Loud voices surrounding his eardrums, assaulting them with a word that hurt worse than the damage being done upon his body. 

“Monster.” 

The word kept being repeated, But, he screamed on top of his lungs desperately in defense of the excruciating pain.

“I’m human! I said I’m only human! please, please no—” 

. . . 

Physique jolted upwards in absolute terror, extremities moving in a shaky manner. His whole body drenched in icy sweat; heartbeats increased in an abnormal manner. His epidermis was as alabaster as a sheet; — only managing to cough up a few deep breaths, feeling his lungs filled with some sort of chemical he could not recognize. The word "monster" kept being repeated transparently inside those four walls, the graphic images haunting him beyond his core.  
He desperately reached out to grab a hold of his cellular device but halted immediately.  
What was he doing? Who would he call?   
He was weak. Nobody would enjoy listening to him in that state; broken.  
Nobody would care.  
He was the leader.  
The leader MUST remain strong; no matter the circumstances.

 

After a few seconds, he forced himself to hide his physical structure against his pillow; transparent liquid streaming down both of his cheeks, watering the cotton layer of his pillow.  
Sobbing in sorrow, desperation; he just wanted the voices to leave him alone. The voices took a different form of a loved one, each time.

It was always the voices.  
He was helpless; with no intention to be helped.

If he couldn't get through this, then was he really fit for the position of an alpha at all?

Up to this day, Liam Dunbar does not know if he suffocated himself into passing out or cried himself to sleep—drained out of energy.  
All he knows, was that the upcoming day; he wished he had never woken up.


End file.
